


Conversation Hearts and Other Confections of at Least Thirty Percent Sugar

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [33]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Babies, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-20 10:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17621114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Valentine's Day can sneak up on the best of us, so who better to prepare for it than the sneakiest people? Unfortunately, Darcy always plans Budget Week to coincide with the holiday. Luckily she can multi-task, and when she can't her friends will pick up the slack.Takes place 2/12/18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa, head rush. I finally finished a holiday-themed story *in advance of the holiday*. This could be the end of days. Is there blood on the moon?
> 
> Okay, you got me. Today Clint is my favorite.

**February 12, 2018**

 

“What are you doing, Mr. Barton?”

Clint felt an actual shiver roll down his spine. Not even the Irish lilt could make Friday’s question not sound creepy.

“Um, making a lunch plate?” He remained standing awkwardly at the buffet that had been set up in the Yinsen conference room.

“You were reaching for the macaroons, Mr. Barton. Those are Ms. Lewis’s macaroons.”

“Oh.” Clint quickly pulled his hand back and moved on to a tray of less dangerous cookies. Budget week was surprisingly treacherous.

“Uh,” Peter glanced at Clint and then up at the ceiling. “Ms. Friday? There’s like, a dozen of them?”

“Don’t, kid,” Clint warned before Friday could respond. “Clint’s Code of Conduct, Rule Number Sixteen. The top five most dangerous situations _ever_ involve aliens, pregnant women, and stilettos. In no particular order.”

“That’s only three things,” Sam interjected as he snagged the monster cookie with the most peanut butter M&M’s. Clint had been eyeing that one – but only as a decoy. He was really after the snicker doodles, and they were now all his.

“Stilettos the shoes, or the knives?” Evie asked from her place already at the conference table. Of course she had arrived early. _Teacher’s pet._ She had a tablet ready for notes and had seated herself to the right of Darcy’s spot. And had a perfectly balanced and nutritionally proportioned meal set out before her. Clint considered her carefully while he tossed potato chips into his mouth. The good doctor was not fooling him with her elegant chignon and business casual sweater set; her cheeks were pink and the makeup on her forehead was still dewy along the hairline. Either she had been pursuing some anatomical studies with a WWII veteran or she had taken up jogging to and from meetings.

“Equally dangerous,” Barnes muttered with a smirk as he slid into the room. Other than a distinct lack of a scowl, he showed no signs of hanky panky.

 _Goddammit_. If he lost the bet to Natasha on when those two would get knocked up it would be the third time in the last two years. How a woman raised with no romance whatsoever was so freaking good at guessing when babies were being made he had no idea. Clint blamed it on Soviet efficiency. Not women’s intuition – he wasn’t that stupid. Or suicidal. Clint took all of the snicker doodles as a small consolation to himself and claimed a chair one down from Evie. When Peter made to sit between him and the doctor, Clint generously redirected him out of the chair that Barnes would want. He was an excellent instructor in that way. _Saving lives, day in, day out. Never asking for thanks._

“Even if that counts as both, you’ve still only got four things on the list,” Sam helpfully pointed out. Sam took a seat one down from the head of the table on the left – a coveted spot that would be blocked from Darcy’s direct line of sight by Steve’s bulk. It also positioned the man closer to the food than either of the super soldiers. _Wicked smart._

“Why are you even here? You don’t have a department budget.” Clint bit into a cookie and sighed, thinking about the extra cardio he was going to have to do to make up for all that sugar. _Worth it._

“I asked him to attend,” Evie said smoothly as she rolled out the chair for Barnes. As soon as the man sat he slid an extra plate of desserts between them. It had brownies on it. Clint had not seen any brownies. _Probably for the best,_ he thought regretfully. _Aging metabolism sucks._ “I would like to add a metal health professional to the staff, and I value his opinion.”

“ _Ona yedinstvennaya_ ,” Barnes muttered under his breath. Clint choked on a laugh and almost lost his cookie. Despite not speaking Russian, Evie did not look amused, but she didn’t move away when Barnes smiled and laid his metal arm across the back of her chair.

Sam narrowed his eyes and pointed with a carrot stick. “Comeuppance, man. You’re gonna get yours.”

“Indeed.” Natasha appeared in the room as silently as ever, and Peter scrambled to his feet and offered to get her a plate. She stared him dead in the eye and then agreed. The kid looked ready to faint at the coveted honor. Clint shook his head; Peter had no idea the judgment he was about to fall under. Barnes huffed softly.

“Your plan is on schedule,” Natasha said to Clint, changing the subject. He swallowed the rest of his cookie and grinned.

“You’re a lifesaver, this is going to be great.” He rubbed his hands together. “This Valentine’s day, Laura isn’t gonna know what hit her.”

“I think you’re doing it wrong,” Barnes suggested.

Clint continued as if he hadn’t heard, ignoring Evie’s snort of laughter too, “Nat got all the measurements for a new dress in Laur’s favorite color, I sewed pockets into the skirt, and Jane Foster is going to drop it off when she and Thor stop by to babysit tomorrow morning. I already checked with Laura’s lab assistant, and she doesn’t have any active experiments.My wife will be whisked to the Tower spa, and by the time she is done being pampered, I’ll have my world-famous pot roast ready to go. Give up and go home, gentlemen. I am the king of romance.”

“You know how to sew?” Evie asked.

“I made all my own stuff in the circus,” Clint shrugged with false modesty. He was a wizard with needle and thread.

Natasha leaned across the table, “He used to tailor all of my lingerie. Not even SHIELD Clothing Services could make such a tight sheath.” Sam choked on his iced tea.

“Pockets aren’t that hard,” Barnes said at the same time. “’Specially in an A-line. Now, buttonholes, those are a pain.”

“Nah,” Clint waved him off with half of a turkey on marble, “you got to get the specialty presser foot. Takes two minutes, tops.”

“You’re gonna romance her with pot roast?” Peter looked skeptical, but he still managed to serve Natasha – from the correct side – a perfectly proportioned selection of toasted club sandwich, strawberry vinaigrette slaw in its own dish so as not to get anything else wet, and two half-brownies. One dark chocolate. One red velvet.

_Eight out of ten._

“Kid,” Barnes began, but Sam had recovered enough to interrupt him.

“Peter, eating out on Valentine’s day is an expensive, nerve-wracking hassle. Making a special meal for a woman – especially if you don’t usually cook or it is her favorite dish - that takes time and effort which shows you value her above yourself.If done properly it can set a relaxed, intimate tone for the entire evening.”

“Exactly.” Clint nodded and crunched down on another chip.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Evie began in a polite tone, “when was the last time you used this...pot roast wooing?”

“Uh...” Clint had to think about it. Which was why he was determined to make this year good. He had missed a lot of things with Laura while he worked for SHIELD.

“Nine years,” Natasha supplied. When Sam and Peter both looked at her in surprise, she shrugged and gave Clint a small smile. “Cooper had just turned two. It was the first time I watched your children.”

“Yes – thank you for that, again.”

“Have you considered something less...”

“Likely to sit in her stomach like a rock?” Barnes finished for Evie. She smacked her hand against his shoulder.

“We are none of us as young as we used to be,” Evie continued more tactfully, “and if you are hoping for any sort of...physicality after dinner, you might want to consider something lighter.”

That was actually pretty good advice. Clint opened his mouth to thank the doctor, but Tony chose that moment to breeze in.

“Is she here? I get to go first, I have things and stuff. And for some reason, my new suit smells like three day old dead cat. Does anyone here know anything about that? Natasha?”

Clint casually took another bite of sandwich and did his best impersonation of a wallflower.

“Darcy’s not here yet,” Sam rolled his eyes.

Tony immediately stopped eyeballing Nat and folded his hands together in barely contained excitement. “Friday, bring up the betting pool. Who had today, anybody?”

“She hasn’t had the baby, Mr. Stark. I believe she was on the phone with her father.” Evie offered the billionaire a comforting smile and leaned around Barnes to look at Clint. “If you are looking for a good recipe, I have one for a flatiron salad that would probably work for you. Simple, and it can be prepared ahead of time.”

“I already bought the roast.” Clint frowned. The salad did sound good, and he did want _physicality_. Like, so much. Being a parent left little time for physicality.

“I could take that off your hands,” Barnes murmured.

“And maybe finagle me some of that _dulche de leche_ pudding I’ve heard about?” Clint responded, equally quietly.

“For a price.”

“What the hell are you people talking about? There is something important we need to discuss. Namely, when the Rogers-Lewis parasite will arrive and how much of your money and/or favors I am going to win when I am right. As I usually am. Right. All the time, really.” Tony waved his hand over the table and a holographic projection of the birth date betting pool appeared. “Oh, look, our favorite redhead had today. So sorry you lost, Natasha. Better luck next kid.”

“Um, wouldn’t that be _your_ kid, Mr. Stark.”

“Parker, what are you doing here? Is this an intern day? I wasn’t aware we were having an intern day.”

Clint intervened. “I’m trying to show him how much work goes in behind the scenes. It’s part of his graduation requirements.”

“Oh. Well. That’s fine then. Just don’t let it happen again.”

There was a long pause in the room. Clint could only assume that no one else knew what they were supposed to keep from happening either. Evie’s phone buzzed and she stood and walked to a corner to speak quietly. Barnes appeared to be listening in. Natasha didn’t look like she was – so she obviously was.

“I’m confused, sir,” Peter said, breaking the silence. _We all are kid, we all are._ “You only named three things. On your list of five.”

“Four,” Natasha clarified, taking a sip of her water. “Stilettos count twice.”

“You weren’t even in here, how do you know that?” Sam asked with admiration. Nat shrugged. Because _obviously_. Clint took pity.

“It’s simple, Pete. Stilettos count twice, and pregnant women count twice. Once for being pregnant, and once more if they are past their due date.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tony seemed to suddenly catch on to the conversation, despite having missed the first part. Having a pregnant wife himself, Clint guessed he was too familiar with the premise.

“Isn’t Ms. Darcy...I thought the baby was supposed to come last week?”

A huge shadow moved over the frosted glass and Tony quickly sat in the end chair, taking up a pose of studied ennui. “Quick, act natural! Friday, x-nay on the etting-pool bay!” He ordered. “Captain and Dictator Lewis are here! If she asks about my budget, you all saw it and it was really good. Very economical. Dynamite presentation.”

Clint rolled his eyes and took a bite of his sandwich. He had come prepared. Arguments ready. Feints and smoke screens perfected. He was definitely getting the indoor ski slope this year. Maybe even the additional land to expand the outdoor night range. Evie returned to the table, but rather than sitting down grabbed her bag and whispered to Barnes that she was needed in the infirmary. Natasha was smiling.

Her real smile.

Things were not as they seemed when Natasha smiled.

As Evie left, Clint caught a glimpse through the open door of Steve, rubbing the back of an enormously pregnant Darcy. Vernon, her assistant, was furiously writing down her orders and looked three seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.

“I’ll take my winnings by end of business, Monday, gentlemen.” Natasha calmly popped a brownie into her mouth.

Parker looked confused. Sam’s mouth hung open. Barnes was typing on his tablet, sending out requests for preliminary budgets to be emailed to him directly. Tony slapped his hand on the table.

“That bastard!”

“I think Steve’s been working to fix that,” Clint commented and pulled out his phone to text Laura. Good gossip, a new recipe, and the spa plans? He was definitely getting lucky this Valentine’s Day.

 

 

* _Ona yedinstvennaya –_ _She’s the only one_


	2. Latent Phase Is The Name of My CCR Cover Band

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys got me. I couldn't not introduce Baby Rogers-Lewis.

**3:07 a.m.**

Darcy stared at the green numbers on the alarm clock and tried to breathe quietly. Steve snuffled into his pillow and cuddled closer against her back. His body heat felt wonderful on the tight muscles along her spine, but she could have done without his big hand on her belly. Carefully, she slipped her hand under his. He reflexively held it, and she moved them both up between her breasts. She was just in time as another light cramp seized her lower abdomen. She exhaled slowly through her mouth, reminding herself, _it will get much, much worse. This isn’t that bad in comparison._

Darcy glanced at the clock when it was over. It had been twelve minutes since the last cramp. And about twenty-four minutes since the one that had woken her up. She hadn’t experienced any false labor pains earlier in her pregnancy, but Evie had assured her that they were perfectly normal. She was supposed to watch for three things: regular contractions closer than ten minutes apart, multiple long contractions in a shorter amount of time, and any sharp pains. Of course, Evie had also said that Darcy could call her at any time, night or day, regardless of whether or not she met those criteria. Darcy knew she could get Evie on the phone immediately, and the woman would come to her if Darcy wanted and check to make sure everything was fine.

Darcy rolled her eyes in the darkness. She _was_ fine. Just because she was four days overdue and two days from her inducement date did not mean she was gong to overreact. Women had babies every day without the option of freaking out on their doctor over every little pain. Darcy could do this. She would just go back to sleep, and if the contractions woke her again she would time them like a normal, rational human being.

**4:52 a.m.**

Another cramp passed and Darcy stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.

“Don’t be a baby,” she whispered to her reflection. With a slow exhale she released her tight grip on the counter and shook out her fingers. “See what I did there? It’s funny because there’s a baby in here.” She ran a palm soothingly over her stomach. Her reflection did not look amused. Darcy glanced at the clock. Steve’s alarm would be going off soon, and then he would head out for his run.

The idea made her face twist. Running – even before she gained forty-seven pounds of boob and super baby – had never been an interest. Looking out the bathroom window at a light snow falling, and doubtless single digit temperatures, made it even less appealing. But Steve enjoyed it, even got antsy if he couldn’t fit enough cardio into his day. It made her nervous for how active the parasite would be once it could walk. In a more immediate sense, Darcy was determined not to mess up his routine too badly. She wasn’t even certain she was actually in labor, but if she was Steve would be hard pressed for a day or so to take care of himself the way he needed to with exercise and enormous amounts of food.

“No point in getting excited yet,” she murmured to herself and reached in to turn on the shower. She left her maternity nightgown on the floor; Steve’s t-shirts hadn’t fit for ages. Darcy stepped under the water just as she heard his alarm beep.

“Sweetheart?”

She managed to get her head under the water as another light cramp passed. He knocked against the shower enclosure.

“Darcy, everything okay?” He was so concerned. Concerned, but not suggesting any action. She had nearly bitten his head off two weeks ago when he quite rightly spoke up about her needing to reduce her office hours and take a nap. Darcy had apologized later, but she still felt bad about it.

“Trouble sleeping,” she answered, hoping it was enough of the truth to fool Steve. “I’m going to make sure Bucky has all the budget information, in case I decide to take a nap today.”

“Whatever you need.” His relief was obvious. Darcy looked over her shoulder as she reached for the shampoo. Steve was pulling on his running clothes. Even at over forty weeks pregnant, she had to stop for a moment to admire his torso before he covered it with a long-sleeve shirt. “Maybe you could try to lie down after your shower?” He bit his lip as he spoke, no doubt worried she would yell at him again. “The hot water might make you sleepy – loosen up some of those tight muscles.”

“I’ll try,” she promised. “Do we have any fruit for breakfast?”

“I’ll stop at the grocer on the way back if we don’t.” He smiled and pressed a kiss against the glass. “Love you, Darce.”

“Love you too, Steve. Try not to get frozen out there.” She winked at him and he huffed out a laugh. The bathroom door closed behind him just in time for another contraction.

Darcy glanced at the clock. It was a couple of minutes closer together than the last one, but not nearly as uncomfortable.

_Must have been false after all._

_Goddammit._

**8:36 a.m.**

Darcy tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the car, but she simply couldn’t. Her back was killing her.

Literally. Killing her.

She was going to commit suicide if she couldn’t find some relief.

“Anything I can do?” Steve glanced over, his brows pinched together as they crawled through rush hour traffic.

“Be a dear,” she said tiredly, “and just pick up these other cars and move the idiots out of our way.”

“You want to get out and walk for a bit? Or lay in the backseat? I can find a place to pull over.” Steve was already looking for a non-existent parking spot.

Darcy felt a wave of love and guilt. He had been so good to her. More than good. Far more than she deserved. For the past month she had been demanding and unreasonable and actually a bit mean. When he suggested she should stop going in to work a week before her due date, she had promptly snarled that if he wanted to have the baby then he could decide what his limits were and until then to mind his own fucking business.

Then she had cried. A lot. Then fallen asleep. At two in the afternoon.

As it turned out, making a baby was exhausting. Evie had said Darcy’s pregnancy was more strenuous than normal, on account of the super-ness of the baby and how quickly it was growing. Darcy had the uncomfortable inkling that she would have been a bitch during a regular pregnancy too.

“Don’t pull over,” she said softly. “Steve, you know I love you and I am so sorry for how crazy I’ve been. And probably am going to continue to be until this kid comes out. Or possibly turns eighteen.”

He took one hand off the steering wheel and reached for hers.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can take it. And you have more than enough justification for being a little cranky every once in a while.” He smoothed their joined hands over her belly.

“Cranky?” She raised on eyebrow.

“I mean, not cranky,” he back peddled faster than Lance Armstrong. “Tired? Uh-”

“I’m just messing with you,” Darcy grinned. “I have totally bee-ah!” She sucked in a breath. _Just like getting your period,_ she chanted to herself while she breathed through the discomfort. _Just the worst, unable-to-take-midol cramps ever._

“Darcy?” Steve’s voice went up an octave on the last syllable.

Darcy could only shake her head and squeeze his hand until it was over. She checked the clock. It had been more than fifteen minutes since the last cramp, but that had been fairly mild. She had thought they were going away. This one had announced itself loudly.

“Pretty sure it’s Braxton Hicks,” she answered once she could focus again. Traffic started moving and she relaxed into her seat, trying to ignore the pain in her back and focus on the number of blocks until they reached the Tower. Snow was picking up, making New York drivers more irritable than their everyday level of _f*you, f*you, get the hell out of my way, f*you_.

“Maybe we should plan on staying at the Tower tonight,” Steve suggested hesitantly. “I know you want to sleep in our bed, but if this ends up being real labor-”

“I’ve been timing them, Steve,” she assured him, anxiety and lack of sleep making her snap. “I do listen when Evie talks, and none of them have been closer than ten minutes apart. And it got less intense for a while.”

“None of them?”

Darcy winced. She had blown it now.

Steve’s voice got low and even. She knew that voice. It was a serious, _you-can’t-find-your-ass-with-a-flashlight-I’m-taking-over_ voice. She deserved it. Deserved it, but was not happy about it. She lay her head back and closed her eyes.

“Exactly how long has this been going on, Darcy?”

She caved. Darcy was simply too tired to argue with him. “Since about three.”

“Sweetheart...” He let out a hard sigh. “Did you call Evie?”

“I really have been timing them. I don’t meet the criteria for labor yet.”

Steve was silent for a few minutes, until she heard them pulling into the Tower garage and he put the car in park. Large, warm fingers brushed her curls away from her face and cupped her cheek.

“Why didn’t you wake me? Why didn’t you tell me?” His soft words were full of understanding and hurt. Stupid tears leaked out of Darcy’s eyes.

“I just wanted you to have a normal morning,” she managed past a tight throat. “I’ve been bitchy and whiney and-”

“Sweetheart-”

“No, I have,” she chuckled wetly. “It’s okay, I know I have. But this is silly. I know the only reason to call Evie right now is because I’m...maybe...a little scared. But that’s dumb. She is right here in the building, and she can get to me in, like, a minute if I need her. And I have things to do. People are counting on me and-”

“Okay, okay. Just, just hold on a sec.” Darcy opened her eyes when Steve got out of the car. She was still trying to get her breathing under control when he opened her door and carefully unbuckled her seat belt. He pulled her from the car gently and picked her up in his arms without so much as a grunt. Some of the extra weight transferred from her vertebrae to his body and Darcy sighed at the relief.

“Don’t forget my bag,” she whispered, laying her face against his chest and closing her eyes again. He bent at the knees, and then carried her to the elevator.

“Friday, our apartment, please.”

“Of course, Captain. Is there anything else I can do for you? Ms. Lewis?” The AI sounded worried.

“Steve, it’s budget week and-” she protested, but he cut her off.

“We’re going to head up to the studio and drop off your things. Get you a robe. Then we are going down to the gym to sit in the whirlpool.”

Darcy groaned deliriously at the idea of not having to support Baby Rogers-Lewis for a few minutes. The whirlpool sounded like heaven.

“I’ll bring your tablet, and I can help you and Friday get your staff started on whatever you need today. And we will call Evie to update her. She gets to decide if you are in labor yet and need to go to medical. If, _if_ your contractions don’t get any stronger – even one of them – and _if_ they aren’t any closer together, and _if_ Evie says you are cleared, then we’ll have a snack and head down to your office. But you are taking off early today and you will let Vernon know you won’t be in again until after the baby is born. And then only on the schedule that we discussed with Evie.”

A small part of Darcy, the part that was tired of not being able to do things for herself. Tired of strangers and acquaintances asking about her very intimate body changes and the person she and Steve had made with _hot, filthy sex_ and whom was preparing to sledge drive his way out of her vagina. Tired of being so, incredibly tired. Tired of not being able to snuggle up to Steve and hold him. Tired of not having an orgasm for _four goddamn weeks_. Tired of aching, everywhere, all the time. Tired of feeling hungry, nauseated, sad, happy, and ready to strangle someone all at once. Tired of being nervous and unsure and worried about meeting the baby inside her.

That small part wanted to tell Steve to go suck an egg.

A bigger part of her wanted to let him take care of things so she could get through this-

“Damn,” she whispered through gritted teeth. She exhaled slowly and glanced at her watch. Twelve minutes.

“Done with?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out. Darcy felt like a wrung out noodle. At the same time she was keyed up with energy. There was so much that needed to be done. “You know, maybe we should plan on staying at the Tower tonight.”

Steve pressed a kiss to her forehead and carried her into their apartment. “That sounds like a great idea, Sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you thought it would be so easy, huh? Just one more chapter and introductions will be made? Ha. Not bloody likely. (See what I did there?)
> 
> Sorry, labor takes two chapters.
> 
> God, if only it were that quick IRL.


	3. This Is the Time On Sprockets Where We Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!

**February 12, 2018**

 

Steve hadn’t had trouble breathing since 1941, but as Darcy gripped the edge of her desk and puffed out her cheeks with a long exhale, his lungs felt too small. This was it. They were having a baby. He was going to be a father.

“Sweetheart,” he said as soon as she was finished. Steve had learned quickly that he should not rub her back or take her hand unless she asked. “That was the third one at eight minutes apart. I’m going to call Evie.”

“Okay.” She leaned back in her office chair and held out a hand. “Can you do that over here? Please?”

Steve immediately complied and knelt next to her desk, holding her hand and letting her lean some of her weight on him. While he was on the phone, she summoned her assistant. When Vernon stepped into the office he immediately knew what was happening. He blanched, then gulped, then pulled out his tablet.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Lewis?”

Things moved quickly after that. While Steve had been against Darcy going into the office at all, Evie had assured him at the morning appointment that there was nothing to do but wait for Darcy to progress. She had suggested a slow walk down the halls might even do her some good, and staying busy would keep her mind off of the labor as long as she didn’t become stressed or bogged down. Steve had not been about to let that happen. He had made sure that most of what she did was respond to emails and dictate instructions to Friday so that others could pick up the slack while she was out.

He emphatically did not suggest that Darcy should have done those things prior to her due date.

Darcy was still giving Vernon orders and reminders when Evie joined them on their walk through the cube farm. Thankfully, most of the employees were out to lunch so only Vernon and Clive were around to see his girl, flushed and a little manic, attempting to talk and breathe through contractions at the same time.

“That’s enough of that,” Evie said, shooing Vernon away and taking Darcy’s free arm. _Thank god_ , Steve thought. He was a little tired of having his offers of help result in biting comments, tears, or apologies. Sometimes all three.

“I just need to-” Darcy began, but she was too unwieldy to resist when Evie began steering her to the elevator.

“Concentrate on getting this baby out of you? Yes, I agree. In fact, as your doctor, I insist.” The elevator doors opened and Nurse Bridget strode out pushing a wheelchair. Evie helped Darcy sit down. “Excellent. We’ll head on up to medical, Rowena is laying out the gown you wanted to wear. May I pull your hair up for you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, although Darcy was nodding, and gathered all the curls from Darcy’s shoulders into a quick french braid. The doctor even had a rubber band in her bag that secured it all off of Darcy’s neck.

“Thanks,” she sighed and grabbed Steve’s hand again.

They spent the next five hours in the new medical suite that Tony had designed for maternity patients. Steve walked with Darcy. He held her hand when the contractions came. He got her ice chips and found her favorite podcasts and music to listen to. He wiped the sweat off of her forehead and neck. He bit his lip when she refused pain medication.

“It’s going to get worse,” she told him with a tense smile. “Might as well wait as long as I can. This is the easy part, right?”

It did not look like the easy part to Steve. He was beginning to wonder if having children could possibly be worth the pain Darcy was in.

“Let’s see where you’re at, okay?” Evie smiled softly at Darcy and patted her knee before sitting on her stool and making some adjustments. Darcy had strictly forbidden Steve from looking below the drape across her legs.

“All right, Darcy,” the doctor said, standing. “It looks like you aren’t progressing. That means that your body isn’t dilating enough for hard labor and actually pushing the baby out. We could wait to see if things move along on their own, but I would rather go ahead with a cesarean now.”

Steve swallowed hard. He had read all the books, the pamphlets, some incredibly scary things on the internet, he knew that c-sections were fairly common and safe procedures. He still couldn’t shake the fear of having a knife at his wife’s belly.

“What is the downside to waiting?” Darcy asked. She looked and sounded much calmer than Steve felt.

“You’ll get tired,” Evie answered promptly. “The baby will get tired. There is the risk that by the time you are dilated enough, you won’t be able to push. Or, if labor goes too long he could get into distress. Of course, we would then perform an emergency c-section, but surgeries are always better done before it becomes urgent - when we have fewer concerns and no reason to rush. The baby is fully developed and clearly ready to meet you, but as we discussed at the last few visits, he is above average in size. As I told you before, there is the chance of tearing with a vaginal delivery.”

Steve didn’t know when the women had had that conversation. He definitely would have remembered any mention of his baby _tearing_ his wife. _Jesus, what did I do to her?_ Darcy was so small, and Steve hadn’t been even average sized for years. And the serum – it had made the baby grow faster, a bit bigger, stronger than average. What if it hurt Darcy? What if because he loved her she-

“Oh, ain’t nobody got time for that,” Darcy said with a wave of her hand. “Slice me open, doc.”

Steve’s lungs tightened again. “Please don’t say it like that, Darce.”

“I’ll have the anesthesiologist over in a few minutes to start the epidural. I’m going to go get scrubbed up, but if you have any questions, or just want to talk to me – go over things, discuss the your favorite episode of Ancient Aliens, anything at all, just let Friday know and she will patch you through.”

Steve held Darcy’s hand while she endured another contraction and tried to wrap his head around what was happening. It seemed too fast – too big a decision to be made so quickly. Evie disposed of her gloves and washed her hands, then patted Darcy’s knee. “You are doing really well. It won’t be long now.” She smiled as she exited the room.

Darcy lay back, sweating a little and trying to get her breath back.

“I’m going to get some more ice, okay Sweetheart?”

She nodded, her braid dark against the pillow, shorter, loose bits curling around her face. “Will you text Jane and let her know? I thought she would be here by now. She and Thor were going to drive up, but with the snow...”

“I’ll message her, and your parents too, if you want?”

She nodded and Steve ducked out, barely catching Evie before she could step through the doors that led to the infirmary and the surgical suites.

“Did you have a question, Steve?”

“Is it...” He struggled to form what he wanted to say – a way to hear what he needed. “Is this really the best way?” He blurted out. “I mean, I know a cesarean is common now, and not as dangerous as it was when I was growing up, but it just seems...are you sure?”

“Steve.” Evie led him away from the doors as Rowena, the head nurse, bustled through with an anesthesiologist in tow. Steve needed to get back to Darcy, but he also desperately needed reassurance. “Can I show you something?”

He nodded and she pulled a small tablet from her coat pocket. After a few taps, she turned it around to show him an extremely pregnant belly. It wasn’t Darcy, but past that Steve couldn’t tell much.

“This is one of my patients. She delivered a week before Thanksgiving. Her baby was breech, feet first. I tried to turn him, but the little guy was stubborn. We went ahead with the cesarean. It took about an hour, from the time I gloved up until the mother was back in her room.” She flicked through a few other pictures. A tiny, messy baby with it’s mouth open in a scream of rage. A sleepy, swaddled infant held in someone’s arms. The next image was of a scar. It took Steve a few seconds to figure out what he was looking at, and he could feel the flush starting on the back of his neck.

“Doc, I don’t-”

"This was taken last week,” she interrupted him. “The incision was healing nicely. I can’t say that the coloration will be the same, but this is typical for recovery.”

Steve’s embarrassment faded as he considered it. The scar was perhaps only five inches long, and low enough that underwear would easily hide it. It was not at all what he had been imagining.

“This was the eighty-sixth c-section I have performed.” Evie slipped the tablet back into her coat pocket and squeezed his arm, smiling encouragingly. “Nothing is ever guaranteed, Steve, but I would never suggest a procedure that I didn’t feel was in the best interest of Darcy and your baby. Now, come on. I need to gown up and Darcy will need you while she gets her blocker. She’s probably more nervous than she is letting on.”

Steve did as he was told, sending texts on the way back to the room and letting Darcy press her head against his stomach and grip his belt while the anesthesiologist pressed a needle between her vertebrae. He helped her change into a surgery gown, held her hand while Rowena put a cap over her hair and paper booties on her feet. He relaxed a bit as the drugs took hold, Darcy’s entire body loosing the tension that had built for hours.

“We’re havin’ a baby, Steve,” she murmured to him as he lifted her and transferred her gently to a gurney for the surgery.

“Is that what’s happening?” He smiled and tried not to let her see the fear that was making his mouth dry and his muscles jump with adrenaline. “And here I was thinkin’ you’ve been hiding a watermelon under you shirt all this time.”

The staff took over, pushing Darcy into the surgery suite and directing him where to put on his own gown, paper shoes, and gauzy shower cap. He scrubbed his hands the way he was told and quickly joined Darcy again. Her arms had been strapped down, splayed wide, so that she couldn’t knock any of the IVs or disturb the drape at her waist. Her feet were propped up, her knees wide in the air. Steve felt sick at how vulnerable she was. Evie came in then, and her presences made it mildly better. He knew everyone in the room, and Friday was watching, he was certain.

It wasn’t a security issue though. His wife was in danger. His baby was about to be extracted – extracted – from her body and there was nothing he could do to keep them safe. Nothing he could do to prevent or lessen their pain. Steve hadn’t been so useless, so helpless, in years.

“Steve.” Darcy smiled at him. Whatever drugs she was on, they were good enough that she was not even a little bit concerned by her position or the impending surgery. She wiggled the fingers of her free hand and he grasped them tightly. “Come here.”

He glanced at the staff to make sure it was okay, but no one was paying him any attention as Evie spoke quietly with her surgical nurse. Steve bent low next to her face, pressing a kiss against the freckles high on her cheek.

“I’m right here, Sweetheart.”

“We should get married.”

Steve blinked.

“Not right here, duh,” Darcy continued, starting to ramble and slur, just a bit. “But we should. I’m proposing that. To you. Proposing to you. Will you marry me, Steve?” She grinned up at him, surrounded by medical staff and about to give birth.

Steve could feel tears, and a surprised laugh, forcing their way up. “I-”

“Okay, Darcy,” Evie interjected calmly. “I’m going to get started. You will feel some pressure. If there is any pain, just let me know.”

Darcy squeezed his hand, her breath getting shorter as she stared at the ceiling. Steve was tall enough he couldn’t help but see over the drape. Evie spoke quietly to her assistant, and occasionally gave an update to him and Darcy to let them know what would happen next.

“I’m going to press on your torso. You will feel a lot of weight there, Darcy, but this is going to get the baby out.”

Evie gestured at Darcy’s upper abdomen for the nurse to take over. Then she reached both of her hands into Darcy’s belly. Steve sucked in a breath as his baby emerged. He was curled up tight. The moment he was free he unfurled like a flower, legs and arms swinging out before he pulled them back in with a shiver and a tiny cry.

“Is that him?” Darcy whispered.

“You have a beautiful boy,” Evie declared. “Steve, would you like to cut the cord?” She held the baby for him, clamped with scissors ready. If not for the serum, Steve didn’t think he could have kept his hand steady.

Rowena took the baby from Evie and Steve followed her, just like they had planned. He watched her weigh and test his reflexes, then take a small blood sample from his heel. She placed it in an insulated box, then asked for his hand to lock it with his palm print. Evie had explained the need to run a few tests after the baby was born, and Tony had designed a storage system that would keep the blood intact and make it next to impossible for anyone to steal. Rowena cleaned and wrapped the baby and pressed him into Steve’s arms – and for a moment he was torn between watching to make certain she locked the sample in the secure wall vault and staring at his son.

His hair was dark blond – but he had lots of it. Wet still from birth and the damp cloth the nurse had quickly run over him, thick locks curled in weird shapes at the crown and sides. His cheeks were fat and red – his whole face was red like he was gearing up for a massive tantrum. Steve couldn’t believe how small he was. Tiny and precious and the most unexpected gift he had ever received. Steve had to walk slowly, carefully back to Darcy’s side so he wouldn’t trip on anything through the tears blurring his vision.

“Here’s your ma,” he murmured to his son.

Darcy was still under the effects of the epidural and couldn’t properly hold him. Steve did it for her, pressing the baby against the side of her breast and angling him so she could see his face.

“Hello, Joseph.”

She was crying too. Crying and smiling and not paying any attention to the doctor stitching her up or the nurse hovering behind Steve or the anesthesiologist watching her pulse. He couldn’t blame her. The baby opened his eyes. They were the clearest, most beautiful blue Steve had ever seen. Mother and child locked gazes. Darcy began to cry in earnest and try to talk at the same time. The baby let out an angry yell, tears leaking from his own eyes as he let everyone know how displeased he was with the entire situation.

Steve let out a wet laugh. “Hello, Joseph. We’ve been waiting to tell you how much we love you.” He pressed a kiss to Darcy’s forehead, and then a softer one to Joseph. His family. As he rocked his son and cried, waiting for Darcy to be cleaned up so they could go back to their room and meet with Evie for tests and the baby’s first meal, Steve swore he would never be angry about going into the ice again.

It had been more than worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Not to alarm anyone, but I may have been reading about James Garfield and I may have started writing about these characters in the Old West. Consider it a hypothetical story. Like hypothetical tentacles, but less stabby. Actually, someone does get a little bit stabbed. Just a little. Nevermind.


End file.
